T’kal flattened onto his back, staring into the shadows of the canopy above the bed. “While the Orlondami sisters were enjoying their reunion,” he began, Tal, Jagan, K’kadi, and I spent a lot of time talking, speculating . . . planning. It’s remarkable how many ideas a rebel leader, two sorcerers, and a wolf can come up with.”
Even without looking at her, T’kal could feel the intensity of B’aela’s focus. She was alert, hoping . . . ready to leap into whatever adventure she sensed coming.
“We’ve had three years of relative peace—no more than skirmishes here and there. Tal wants to sharpen our forces’ skills before we take on Reg Prime. So he’s sending out a number of expeditions—to use an old expression, ‘to test the waters’. Also, we could use something more up close and personal than the reports we get from our informants. Tal’s sending everything—Rybolt and Merkanov with Tycho and Scorpio, taking over Astarte himself. Jorkan’s got the battlecruiser you and K’kadi hijacked. Turco’s got the new huntership. Lassan and Pegasus, of course. Plus a number of the other armed merchants doing their regular runs, with an even closer eye to accumulating information.”
B’aela, never known to shy away from a risk, regarded her husband with horror. “Tal’s risking the entire fleet?”
“He says it’s necessary. Both strategically and to keep everyone sharp.”
“May the Goddess protect them,” B’aela breathed.
“Tal’s resurrecting Captain Kane, duplicating his old smuggling runs—Tatarus, Deimos, Eridan—”
“Tatarus is still neutral,” B’aela mused, her green eyes glowing as she recalled the stories she’d heard about Captain Kane’s adventures as a pirate.
“Want to go along?”
Intense silence lasted for several heartbeats as B’aela absorbed the shock, analyzed the implications. Huffed a breath. “Kass is going to be livid with rage,” she said at last. “Fortunately, M’lani not as much, for she really could kill us if she chose. Kass will have to content herself with slamming us against a wall or two.”
“You’re so certain M’lani isn’t invited?”
“M’lani is heir to the throne, and Jagan . . . ?” B’aela shook his head. “He’s not a fire-eater like you. He’ll be perfectly happy to be left out of this one.
“Jagan creates dragons, not me,” T’kal protested.
“Everyone knows which one of you is more lethal. And Jagan will avoid danger if he can, while you run at it, full tilt.”
T’kal winced. Hopefully, it was too dark for his wife to notice. “You’re right. Jagan and M’lani stay.”
“Which means K’kadi goes,” B’aela murmured, her breath whooshing out on a long sigh. “Our esteemed leader cannot thumb his nose at the Empire without a sorcerer to protect him from prying eyes. Ah! . . .” T’kal could hear the laughter in her voice. “No doubt baby brother is even more delighted to get away than we are.”
T’kal stifled a laugh. Even his wolf found that one amusing. “Then you’re interested?” he asked, keeping his voice low and indifferent.
“Am I interested?” B’aela echoed. “I suppose I should be overwhelmed by parental guilt—perhaps the Goddess should strike me down—but if you should attempt to leave me behind, T’kal, I swear I would become a stowaway! Though granting your value to the expedition,” she conceded in an insidious purr, “I might wait until we return home before turning you into a slimeworm.”
“Just try it.” With a low growl, T’kal pounced, pinning his wife to the bed. “We are terrible parents, but the truth is, adventure calls. Reg Prime was my first voyage out of our system, and I admit I want to see more. Oh, I’ll be glad to come home again, but to have an opportunity to see what’s out there . . .”
B’aela took his rugged face in her hands. “I never thought I’d see the day the wolf wanted to roam off planet, but I’m glad we’ll be doing it together. I’m saving a hug for Tal when I see him.”
“So . . . are we good on not making babies?” T’kal asked, a different gleam lighting his wolf’s eyes. “I’d hate to mess things up.”
“Up to date on my shots,” B’aela assured him. Missing the invasion of Reg Prime was not an option. “Therefore . . . definitely a good night to celebrate.” Slowly, tantalizingly, she lowered her head until her lips brushed his.
The result was, of course, exactly as she expected. An explosion of passion undimmed by three years of marriage. And enhanced by the excitement of looking forward to many similar nights aboard Astarte, the rebel flagship once known as Orion.
Princess L’ira Faelle Maedan Orlondami Rigel, aka Kass Kiolani, ruler of the Blue Moon, savored the last bite of a confection created by Veranelle’s accomplished pastry chef. Lowering her fork to her plate, she regarded her husband with thinly veiled annoyance as she plunged into matters of business carefully avoided during their meal. “Alek is moving onto Tycho for the few days before you leave, so your mother can have his suite until her house is finished.” Kass paused, a frown wrinkling her golden skin. “Although it will be good to have her here while you are gone, I can’t help but wonder if she should keep Anneli company now that you are depriving her of her entire family.”
“I am not depriving her of her entire family,” Tal shot back. “Against every argument, my father made the decision to stay on Reg Prime. And Anneli will still have Alala and the baby.”
“Poor Alala—just think how she feels,” Kass retorted. “The Herc warrior left behind with a squalling infant.”
“How fortunate Anneli has the soul of a diplomat,” Tal drawled.
Kass’s amber eyes sparked. “But the moment the rest of your family arrives, you are going to snatch your brother and sister away and take them on some ridiculous quest for adventure, which you have chosen to call ‘battle-hardening’—”
“You think I should make the invasion of Reg Prime their first taste of war in three Tri-moon cycles?” S’sorrokan, not Tal Rigel, glared at her over the width of the table.
“And not just Kelan and Dayna.” Kass pressed on, ignoring her husband’s rising temper. “You’re taking K’kadi and the Kamals—all of them. Even Erik!”
“Pieter Lassan has been going to war since he was six!”
“He’s not the possible heir to an Empire!”
Tal shot to his feet so fast he had to grab his chair to keep it from falling. He stalked to one of the floor-to-ceiling windows, gazing out onto Veranelle’s dusk-shadowed gardens. “There will be no Empire,” he ground out. “I won’t allow it. It’s over, done. Whatever the future brings, I will end it.”
“That’s it, isn’t it?” Kass said with a sigh. “It’s the old saying about ‘Keep your enemies close.’ You can’t leave Rand behind.”
Tal ran a hand through his short blond hair. “I don’t consider him an enemy, Kass. But no, I can’t take the chance of leaving him behind. And giving the young people experience will keep them alive. One brush with trouble on Reg Prime falls far short of preparing them for what’s ahead.”
“At least the girls will have B’aela to keep an eye on them,” Kass muttered. She moved up behind him, reached up to touch his shoulder. “I’m sorry about your father, Tal, but somehow he’s survived all these years. Since back when he sheltered me in the Archives. I don’t know what his feelings about the Empire were at that time, but he kept me alive because you asked him to. And one thing led to another, and . . . here we are, on the verge of taking down the greatest empire the Nebulon Sector has ever known.”
“And I’m going off and leaving you behind.”
“As you did the night you left me in the Archives.”
Tal turned, his arms pressing her tight against his chest. “Omni! Kass, I’m sorry. You know I wouldn’t go if I didn’t believe it was necessary.”
“As long as you don’t remind me that I was the one determined to have a second baby.” Kass muttered.
Tal rested his chin on top of her head. “I consider myself fortunate that you did not toss me out the window th
e night I told you about this trip.”
“I still think it’s insane to risk sending ships to every one of the twelve systems . . .”
“And beyond,” Tal added. “Astarte will be checking out some of the neutral planets, like Tatarus, as well.”
Tatarus. Memories flooded Kass’s mind: Tatarus. Epsilon 3. Hell Nine. Choya Gate. Dear Goddess, she couldn’t bear to see Tal take such a risk without her. The rebel fleet scattered over half the Nebulon Sector, while Kass Kiolani, the girl with malfunctioning trajectories stayed home, her belly swelling, adding yet another rebel to the cause.
And almost as bad, K’kadi was going to war without her. Without the leavening influence of the sister who had turned him from an erratic teen into a weapon of war. Although in the years since, his powers had far outstripped her wildest dreams. And surely fatherhood had helped stabilize his eccentricities.
Double fatherhood.
Kass made a face, which fortunately Tal could not see. She suspected K’kadi was all too eager to be back aboard Astarte. “When do you leave?” she murmured into Tal’s chest.
“As soon as the family arrives. I’ll see mother settled, give Kelan and Dayna time to catch their breath.”
“A matter of days.” Kass felt the chill all the way to her toes. “And how long—”
“At least two Blue Moon cycles. I’ll send word if it’s to be longer.”
They had not been parted for that long since her four years in the Archives. When Tal Rigel was a phantom lover, presumed dead far out on the Sector’s rim.
She could not go through that again. Simply could not.
But she would. Because that’s what they’d been doing for years: fighting, enduring, fighting, bearing the burden, fighting, bearing children. Planning, waiting, and now venturing into enemy territory, taunting fate, risking everything to make sure that on the day of the invasion of Regular Prime, ships and crews were honed to perfection. While Kass, M’lani, and Alala held their skills close, knowing their time would come.
For now, it would have to be enough.
Kass took Tal’s hand and led him into their bedchamber. They were entitled to a night to remember, and she was going to make sure they savored every minute of it.
The palace of Kraslenka, Regula Prime
“Where is he?” Emperor Darroch Rysor Karlmann von Baalen glared at the stiffly upright figure of the man married to his favorite sister. “You said you would bring him back. Where is he?”
Rogan Kamal sketched a bow, while noting with more than his customary cynicism that his obeisances to the Emperor seemed to be losing depth, along with sincerity, with each repetition. “Your nephew is living somewhere in the Psyclid system. He has married a Psyclid woman and informs me he is content to stay where he is. Frankly, Excellency, we must accept Admiral Kamal’s retirement. After all, as you have pointed out, his career did not turn out as we had hoped. He lost Psyclid, crashed our newest battlecruiser. There are rumors he fought against us at the second Battle of Psyclid. And after speaking with him, I can have no doubt about his intentions. He is lost to us.” Still looking his emperor straight in the eye, Rogan added, “As a father, I admit I am glad not to see him tried for treason.”
The Emperor’s glare intensified. “You believe I would have tried my intended heir as a traitor?”
“Clearly, Rand is no longer Heir Apparent. He has done a thorough job of thwarting the ambitions of both of us.”
“That woman turned his head,” Darroch grumbled, snatching at any excuse to justify his nephew’s aberrant behavior. “Can we get rid of her?”
“He might have been grateful if you rid him of Montiene. But his new wife . . . ?” A wicked smile tugged at Rogan’s lips. “Revenge might bring Rand home, but I assure you, you would regret it.”
Emperor Darroch stiffened. Hands flat on his desk, his tone ominous, he asked, “Are you threatening me, Rogan?”
“I believe that was more of a promise. I strongly suggest you forget Rand ever existed.”
“Will he fight against us?”
His most sincere face firmly in place, Rogan returned, “My son was always more of an administrator than a fighter. Now he is retired, content with his new wife. I cannot see him leaving all that to captain a warship.” May Omnovah forgive me!
The emperor’s fingers tapped lightly on his intricately inlaid desk; he gazed out the window at the trees, flowers, and fountains in the courtyard. “You have never lied to me before, Rogan. That is not the Rand we both know.”
“I assure you, Excellency, he is an even greater disappointment to me than he is to you. Do you not think I wanted to be proud of my son? To see him triumph in battle? To take his rightful place as your successor?”
“Go!” Darroch commanded, waving Kamal toward the door. “Go now before I try you as a traitor. You know fydding well the rest of my relatives are incompetent idiots. Every last one of them. I need an heir! So get out,” he roared. And don’t come back until you can offer a solution to this problem!”
Rogan backed up, keeping his head down to hide the expression on his face. He knew the solution to the problem.
Darroch wouldn’t like it.
Chapter 13
Astarte, en route to Tatarus
Dayna Rigel, chin in hand, shook her head. “Sorry, K’kadi, but there’s no way you’re going to pass for a pirate, not even a smuggler.”
Pirate’s pet?
Yuliya Kamal, not yet accustomed to her step-brother’s occasional flashes of humor, let out a most unladylike snort.
K’kadi raised his silvery brows, a frown marring the fey perfection of his face. Kass choose clothes. Not like.
“Of course you don’t,” Dayna agreed with mock sympathy. “You like to be cock of the walk, strutting around in court clothes the whole day long. Tell me, what sparkling array did you wear when hijacking spaceships in the Battle of Psyclid?”
Jumpsuit. Like everyone else. Even in words not spoken aloud, K’kadi’s truculence came through loud and clear.
“Then consider the rogue spacer outfit a uniform like the jumpsuit,” Dayna countered.
“Maybe a wig,” Yuliya offered, cocking her head to one side as she examined K’kadi from head to toe. “It’s that silver blond mane that makes you look like you’re ready to fly.”
K’kadi grimaced. Nothing make me look like man of action.
“You could dress as a girl,” Dayna offered, perfectly straight-faced. “That might work.”
Not funny. I am father. Twice over. But he wouldn’t think about that at the moment.
“So you’re an anomaly,” Yuliya said. “Some strange character we picked up on a planet far, far away. I mean, even on your own planet you’re considered weird, right?”
Live on moon, not planet.
Dayna threw up her hands. “Omnovah protect us from sensitive sorcerers!” she declared. “Just keep the fireworks to yourself, and we’ll pretend there’s nothing odd about a fragile-looking boy toy traveling with a bunch of rough, tough smugglers and pirates.”
Girls not tough pirates.
Yuliya smirked, fluttering her lashes. “No-o,” she responded silkily, “we are clearly there for a reason even more ancient than piracy.”
“Guess that’s the explanation for you too,” Dayna drawled to K’kadi, her blue eyes brimming with laughter. “You’re the respite for those who prefer . . . something different.”
K’kadi stiffened, standing tall in knee-high black boots, skin-tight brown leather pants, his khaki shirt partially obscured by a studded leather breast plate. Feet spread wide, one hand resting on a lethal-looking dagger at his hip, he struck a pose. His slightly slanted azure eyes gleamed. Both girls, suddenly aware they had pushed a powerful sorcerer too far, held their breaths.
A dark cloud formed over their heads; lightning flashed, thunder rumbled. The girls jumped back as sparks scattered in every direction. K’kadi glowered. Another flash of lighting, a crack of thunder. The sparks took on a sting. Dayna a
nd Yuliya cowered against the far wall. K’kadi stood between them and the door. To their infinite relief, the fire in his eyes cooled, the sparks faded, the dark cloud vanished. K’kadi’s tone was more ice than fire when he told them, Kass say men in Jingar’s respect sorcerer’s tricks. Like fireworks.
“What’s Jingar’s?” Dayna whispered, still pressed hard against Astarte’s inner hull.
Taverna on Tat. Big. Noisy. Many kinds of people. Tal left Kass alone there once. Kass not like.
“Tal would never leave Kass alone in a tavern,” Dayna sputtered, coming off the wall. “I don’t believe it.”
Tal in room. Talking to other people.
“Oh.”
In the end, good. Pybbite tell Kass Jagan on Hell Nine.”
Yuliya’s head came up as she recognized a story from the days when she was still a child. “And on the way back from Hell Nine, Fleet found them—”
“And that led to the Battle of Choya Gate,” Dayna finished.
“I heard some of our captains talking about that right after it happened,” Yuliya cried. “They couldn’t believe it, even if they all saw it. “What . . . ?” She scowled at Dayna, who had turned an incredulous look in her direction.
“I forgot,” Dayna muttered. “I actually forgot you grew up at court. That the Emperor’s your great-uncle.”
And you think me strange. K’kadi’s sardonic gaze encompassed both girls.
Dayna and Yuliya peered at K’kadi, who had resumed his normal pose of fragile boy-child, deceptively slight of frame, the smooth, pale face of a prince of fairies topped by long, straight silver-blond hair and marked by innocuous, almost vacant, azure blue eyes. “We’re sorry,” Dayna said. “You know we were only teasing. I mean you’re now some kind of family to both of us, right? And family is known for saying what no one else would dare. It means . . . it means we like you.”
Royal Rebellion Page 10